


Knee-High Socks

by Iro



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1458532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iro/pseuds/Iro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The look in his eyes is a tempting mix of innocence, mischief, and complete knowledge of just how hot he looks in that white t-shirt that's almost too small for him, and by this time, I'm almost definite God is trying to fuck with me. <br/>"Levi?" He asks as I approach him. <br/>"Levi." I reply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yoyoyoyoyo. New story here. Trying my hand at Eruri because cuties such cuties. Chapters are probably going to be pretty short so I can update frequently.   
> That's all for now.   
> Enjoy!

I rarely feel the urge to sit down and word my thoughts, because my thoughts are usually such a mess in my head that I can hardly make sense of them. Or maybe because they're simpler than I'd like to admit, and I find the need to complicate them and blow them out of proportion, just to keep things interesting. In any case, fact is, I like to keep my thoughts to myself. 

But sometimes, things happen to us. Things that we can't decipher, or maybe we just don't want to. But they're most certainly things we have to share. It might be to get the burden off our backs. It might be to remind ourselves of what has happened, because it's so important we never want to forget. Or it might just be because we don't like keeping things inside. One thing I know about people, that same thing I don't like to admit about myself, is that none of us likes to keep things inside. 

So here it is. Here is what has happened to me. This story is about meeting people, and hating people, and loving people--but it's not a love story. 

Oh, it most certainly is not a love story. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just going to go ahead and make Erwin a sex god in this story.  
> He deserves nothing less.

 

Erwin Smith has a gorgeous body. 

The kind of gorgeous body you see on TV, the one teenage girls fawn over all day long and gay teenage boys keep a picture of under the mattress. 

What's good about Erwin Smith's body is that I get to drool over it every Friday at the gym, and boy, am I grateful I pay those extra 50 bucks to come here. Sure, I may not be a teenage boy, but I am gay enough to appreciate a body like his.

What's bad about Erwin Smith's body is that I can't do anything more than appreciate it. From afar. Only one day a week. Which is very unfortunate, because frankly, I think I'm beginning to develop an obsession over that body. From the way the muscles on his arms flex as he lifts weights, or his rock hard abs glisten with sweat as he heads towards the changing rooms after an hour of exercise, to that deliciously tempting bulge in his pants, his body is the closest thing to perfection. 

I've considered many times just going up to him and asking for his number - news travels fast, and I'm sure he's heard the rumors about what a good fuck partner I am. It's not like I'm ashamed of it. I take pride in my abilities when it comes to sex, and as long as it puts some food on the table (because my measly job at the bookstore barely offers enough to keep me alive), I can handle the rumors pretty well. I never have been the type for commitment, anyway. 

So why haven't I approached him yet? I'm not sure myself, but his girlfriend coming to pick him up from the gym every Friday might have something to do with it. 

Erwin Smith is straight. 

And it's very frustrating. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Hanji sits lazily on my couch, feet propped up on the table despite the fact I always chastise her for it, her eyes deviating from the TV once in a while to focus on me while I wash the dishes. "Levi, babe." 

I turn around to stare for a few seconds, feeding my look with enough venom to get the point across that I don't appreciate her shoes scraping against my living room table. She doesn't move them. 

"We need to get you a boyfriend."

At that, I ignore her and return to my dishes. She lets out a breathy sigh, and I hear her feet touch the ground again as she gets up to walk towards me. "You can't keep ignoring me forever! You haven't had a boyfriend since high school." 

  
" _Y_ _ou_  were my boyfriend in high school." I snap back, not bothering to turn around and look at her. ** _You were a boy in high school, period._**  I can practically feel her roll her eyes. 

"Exactly. You haven't had a boyfriend since me." 

"Well, when you put it like that, it does sound pretty pathetic." I put the last dish in the tray and fish around for the towel. "But I don't want a boyfriend." After I'm done wiping my hands and the towel is back in its place, I walk over to the living room and slump on the couch, where Hanji was sitting just a minute ago.

She follows, sitting next to me and taking off her shoes to stretch her feet on my lap. "Why not?" 

Shooting her a sideways glare, I mumble, "Because I don't need one." 

"Bullshit. You can't be content with just sucking cock and getting your ass fucked every two days just for a few dollars." Actually, I'm very content with sucking cock and getting my ass fucked every two days just for a few dollars. "You need a relationship. Something more stable. You're 27, for Christ's sake."

"What does my age have to do with it?" I ask, though I'm fully aware that my age has a lot to do with it. As much as I hate to admit it, Hanji is right. I may not be the type to seek comfort and safety in some other man's arms, but I'm not getting any younger, and running from bed to bed every night can get pretty tiring. Even so, being a boyfriend is hard work, and I'm not quite sure I'm up to it. 

She pokes my side with her index finger. "I met a guy today at work. Said my gay best friend is looking for a boyfriend." I stare at her for a second, not quite sure how to reply to that, and she continues on. "I got his number. You guys have a date tomorrow at seven." 

Scoffing, I remove her feet from my lap and focus on the 16 year old singing 'Sweet Child O' Mine' on the TV. "I'm not going." 

"Yes, you are. He's hot. He just broke up. Maybe you guys won't date, but rumor has it he has one of the biggest cocks in town."

One thing I hate about Hanji, and that's the fact that she knows exactly what to say to get my attention. Gritting my teeth, I let out a sigh of defeat. "If I'm doing this, I'm doing it for you. What's his name?" 

She chuckles and tosses me a little note with a cell phone number messily scribbled on it. "Erwin. Erwin Smith." 

The truth is, I've never believed in luck; good things and hot guys don't just fall from the sky. But today, luck is definitely on my side.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyheyhey.  
> So, new chapter is up - fucking finally, I've been so cramped with work these days.  
> Nothing incredible happens in this chapter, but hey, we have to get you guys ready for what follows. -oldmenhavinghotsteamysex-  
> Enjoy!

Erwin Smith is not straight. 

 

Remarkably enough, rumors of his reputation as the very gay man that he is have managed to escape me, so it was quite the surprise to know that I have a date with him. 

But I have a problem. 

It's a very, very annoying problem, and I'm going to throw a bitch fit if I don't fix it right now. 

I can't find my jeans. 

  
No, it's not just any pair of jeans. It's _the_  jeans. The black denim ones that cup my ass so perfectly I'm convinced they can make even Erwin The Sex God drool. But they're gone. 

And it's really pissing me off. 

Frustrated, and more than a little worried that I might be late, I walk out of my room and head to the kitchen. I don't like what I see. Hanji's face is hidden behind the fridge door, hands buried in the back pockets of very familiar black denim pants. 

"When I said I didn't mind rooming with you for a while, I did not mean you're allowed to wear my clothes." 

She jumps back, eyes wide as she stares at me, her mouth stuffed full of whipped cream. Under different circumstances, I might have laughed. But skinning her alive sounds like the more natural option right now. 

"I pwomshe i dwend bo eh ofh paphoz!" She mumbles incoherently over the cream, palms in the air as if in surrender. Swallowing, she tries again. "I'll give it back, okay? I just had to go get food and I needed something to wear." 

"I'm going to be late. Take them off." When Hanji doesn't move, I shoot her a strict look, teeth gritting. "Now." 

She quickly complies. 

  
It's not more than twenty minutes later that I find myself stepping out of my car, eyes already scanning for Erwin in the packed building with a sign that reads "Mike's cafe" sloppily placed above the entrance. Hanji's words still blare in my mind -  _"Good luck! Don't forget your condoms!"_  - as I walk from table to table. 

At long last, I spot him in the far end of the cafe. The look in his eyes is a tempting mix of innocence, mischief, and complete knowledge of just how hot he looks in that white t-shirt that's almost too small for him, and by this time, I'm almost definite God is trying to fuck with me. 

"Levi?" He asks as I approach him. 

"Levi." I reply. Erwin motions for me to take a seat, and I do, looking away from him only for the short moment I'm pulling out my chair. My hands cross on the table. 

  
"I had my suspicions ever since your friend told me your name, but now they're verified." He makes a short, dramatic pause to lean back in his chair. "You're  _that_  Levi."

It doesn't take long for my eyebrow to lift in the most challenging stare I can manage. "That Levi?" Is my brisk reply. 

He exhales a laugh, icy blues seemingly examining my features. "Yes. That Levi. That dirty little whore everyone seems to be talking about at the gym." I have to admit that I'm taken aback - not so much by his words, but by the casual, completely matter-of-fact tone of his voice, by the utterly emotionless face that accompanies them. 

He doesn't seem to be wasting time, and I'll be damned if I say that doesn't excite me. "Well, rumors are just rumors until you test them out for yourself, after all."

Quite invested in flirting with the guy of my dreams, I don't notice the waitress that stands next to me until she clears her throat and taps her pen on her notepad. She's a pathetic little thing, not older than 18, with messy brown hair and what seems like the nasty habit of chewing gum more than a little proudly. 

I order a cappuccino absently, turning my attention to Erwin again as the waitress leaves our table. 

  
"So," he mutters over the brim of his coffee cup, "I trust you've noticed me at the gym."  _Oh, I have. I most certainly have._

"You're hard to miss. A rich guy like you, coming to that measly little place. Word travels fast." 

"I merely want to avoid fancy places. I dislike them." He stops for a second, then corrects himself. "I dislike the people." 

I chuckle softly, "Welcome to the club."

We both take the few seconds of silence that follow to stare at each other; I study the way his t-shirt clings to his chest, and his lips that are pulled into a tight line, and for the billionth time I imagine those lips saying my name. I'd be lying if I said that, in my most sex-crazed moments, I haven't had fantasies of him above me, or under me, or looking down at me - besides, I've said it before. Erwin Smith has a gorgeous body. 

He pushes his cup to the side. "So, tell me, Levi. Do you have other plans for tonight? Or is it alright for me to monopolize your company?"

I smirk, taking it as the challenge that it obviously is. "It depends." 

Erwin's brows crease slightly in an almost surprised frown. "On?" 

"Whether I'm satisfied." 

He laughs, and I take my eyes away to concentrate on the cup of coffee that is now being placed on my table. I thank the waitress if only as a matter of manners, and begin to sip my coffee as I wait for his answer. 

He shifts in his seat. "You think I won't satisfy you?" 

"Quite the contrary, Erwin. I expect you'll live up to my expectations." It's not a lie. Through my experience, I've learned that you can see how skilled a man is in bed by the way he talks, and god, Erwin must be perfect. And since I'm only here for the sex, letting myself go a little over the limits won't hurt... much. 

He laughs breathily, twisting the now empty cup between his fingers. I clear my throat. "Do you smoke?" 

He shakes his head. "I'd rather keep my lungs." 

Rolling my eyes and making sure to leave some money on the table for my coffee, I take out a pack of tobacco from my back pocket and motion for him to follow me outside. "Good thing I do. It's hell in here."

Once we're outside, and I'm working on rolling my cigarette, I shoot him a small look. "Where do you plan on taking me after this? Some filthy alley where no one can hear my screams as you fuck me into next week? Public toilet so I can suck your dick?" 

He seems almost taken aback, but his voice remains at the same frustratingly low tone. "I'm taking you home." Ignoring the slight jolt the obvious sexual innuendo sends through me, I lift an eyebrow at him inquiringly. He explains; "We're going to my place." 

Oh, Gods, hold me; this is too good to be true.


End file.
